The Dead Don't Die
by ohairene
Summary: Follow heavily tattooed professional skate boarder Ken Collars as he navigates his way from pampered b class celebrity to a three course meal for the walking dead. - mostly oc, will eventually tie together with season 3 of twd -


The TV flicked off, then back on, revealing a screen of snow and static. I took a deep breath in and remained seated in the recliner like I had been for the past 13 hours.

I didn't notice how quiet the city had become until the TV turned off and the hellish news broadcast was suddenly a thing of the brief past. I almost wished I heard the sound of sirens and speeding vehicles; But instead, only silence. My stomach growled.

The door to my hotel room flew open knocking a framed picture of a sandy ocean scene off the wall into tiny shards of glass.

"I can't stay here with you any longer, Ken." My talent manager, Dan, said quietly. He threw a suitcase on the bed and unzipped it. "I stuck around here because I was hoping you'd wake the fuck up and come to your senses. I hoped we could leave together and head back to Connecticut as the team I thought we were." He pulled out an array of knives and guns and laid them on the bed. "But I can't wait any longer. The streets are empty, there's no police, no army, there's no civilization. Everyone has fled the state and headed north. That's where I'm heading, with or without you."

I glanced up at him, then to the multiple weapons on the bed. "Where did you get all this?" I spoke. My lips were dried shut and cracked as soon as I opened them.

"Its a free for all, Ken. People are looting and taking off. I hit up the pawn shop early this morning."

"You stole this stuff?" I cocked my head and sat up straight.

"Where is your fucking brain at, my brother?" He got in my face and grabbed my shoulder. "The apocalypse is now relevant. You better hope this is like that Call Of Duty bull shit." He tried to joke, but couldn't manage anything but a serious, no, desperate tone.

Suddenly everything hit me. The first instance in Miami earlier this week, the hotel maintenance trying to evacuate the building, the sounds of guns going off in the streets, women screaming, helicopters cutting through the sky raining down an 'antidote', every channel on the TV reporting a different instance of the same disease. It all connected and became one coherent nightmare.

The room went black and all I could hear was ringing and Dan's cursing fade into the darkness.

When I woke up I was alone. My room was hot and I was on the floor in a puddle of my own sweat. The bed and dresser had been pushed in front of the closed door and the window was open. As I sat upright a warm Florida breeze brushed across my cheek and blew a piece of paper off the lonely side table onto the floor. I crawled over to it and rubbed my eyes a few times before looking at the words scribbled down.

"Sorry, brother. I had to leave and couldn't wait any longer for you to wake up. The hotel was clear until shortly after you went out. I barricaded the door shut in hopes of keeping you safe. I left out the window with what I needed, please keep yourself armed and I hope to see you again someday. You were always better at those zombie games than me.

Good luck.

- Dan"

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me." I whispered under my breath. My eyes began to sting and tears slid down my cheeks. "This can't be happening." I brought myself to my knees and crawled over to the window. I sat for a moment, scared to look out, then talked myself into glancing over the windowsill.

Smoke was what I saw first. It billowed up into the cloudless sky. I pulled myself to my feet and immediately regretted it as my eyes glanced over the destroyed city of Tampa. I noticed the cars scattered all over the streets, doors open, some with bodies hanging out onto the blood stained sidewalks. There was no life anywhere, not even the supposed undead.

I began to feel dizzy and bent over the side if the window to vomit but stopped as my eyes locked on at least half a dozen people slouched over at the bottom of the building. They seemed to be in decent shape, and moving. I couldn't see their faces as they were hunched over facing the ground but they were moving.

"Hey!" I shouted. My voice was gruff, but audible. "Hey! Is it safe down there?" All at once the group glanced up at my window and in that very second I had wished I kept my mouth shut. Their faces were covered in blood and their eyes were pale and washed out. They hissed at me and lifted themselves to start clawing at the wall. I went to pull away, then noticed a suitcase with a detached arm clasped around the handle and a few feet away a body laying on the ground. Its stomach was ripped open in a gory mess, but its face was intact. It was Dan. I felt my body heat up and my fists clench in anger. I threw myself away from the window and collapsed onto the floor in a fit of rage. I wanted to mourn but quickly snapped out of my daze and began looking around the room for the weapons Dan said he left behind.


End file.
